


Tourney In King's Landing

by The13th



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Aegon is an asshole, Aunt/Nephew Incest, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, R Plus L Equals J, Rhaella is alive, Romance, warning incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-04-08 00:30:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19096060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The13th/pseuds/The13th
Summary: Rhaegar didn't die on the Trident, and the Mad King was dethroned,Eddard Stark found his sister dying in the birthing bed, promising him to protect the boy. Ned took Jon to Winterfell, calming him to be his bastard to save him from the deadly Game Of Thrones.Sixteen years later, King Aegon VI Invited the Starks to come to King's Landing for a tourney that was being held for princess Daenerys' name day. Ned can't keep Jon away from the game any longer. The bastard of Winterfell finds himself falling deeply in love with the princess, causing the world to slipt open once more.War, Love, and Death frequently come hand in hand.





	Tourney In King's Landing

283 AC

How can a Dragon and the Wolf find love in such a time. . . Nobody knows. But they did. 

He was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the firstborn son of King Aerys II Targaryen and his sister-wife, Queen Rhaella. Prince of Dragonstone and heir to the throne.

She was Lyanna Stark the only daughter of Lord Rickard Stark and his wife, Lady Lyarra.

Both had duty's to their house's, to their realm. But destiny has a way of bringing people together. . . And a way of tearing them apart.

 

**The Dragon Prince**

The large doors to the throne room opened with a loud creak. Two servants on either door pushed against the large oak surface, leading the way for the crowned prince. Rhaegar Targaryen waltzed into the large room that was shadowed by the monstrosity that his ancestor, Aegon the Conquer had built. The Iron Throne. The seat of the power in all of the seven kingdoms, the chair that has been abused over that last decade by his mad father. King Aerys Targaryen. The insane man sat atop the vast mountain of sharp jagged swords. His long black robes hung lazily off his skinny weak form. His dirty knotted mess of silver-gold hair fell far past his shoulder and draped across his back. Wrinkles across his pale skin looked horrifying, his eyes weathered and cruel, teeth as yellow as a ripe lemon, crooked and jagged. 

_A disgrace to the Targaryen name_ , Rhaegar thought to himself as he stepped further into the room. The black armor coated in rubies was still worn across the brave prince's chest. Blood and gore splattered across the smooth dark surface. The battle was still fresh in his mind; the trident was raging as both the Dragon and the Stag clashed together. Rhaegar was wielding his long sword, against Robert Baratheon with his war hammer. The duel was a hard obstacle to overcome. The silver prince thought that the sweet kiss of death would fall upon his swollen red lips. But the gods have looked out for him as Robert swung his mighty hammer down towards the prince, who was laying among the shallow current. Mud clinging to his form, Rhaegar managed to roll away from the massive swing. A swift jab to the ribs ended the Usurpers rule. Resulting in the surrender of the Stark, Arryn, and Tully forces. After a long drawn out conversation with the hostages, Eddard Stark, Hoster Tully, and Jon Arryn. The crowned prince succeeded in convincing the lords that Lyanna wasn't kidnapped and raped, but instead, they decided to run away together. Eddard was the first to agree, knowing his wild sister to be anything but a damsel in distress.

A hard ride later, the prince, along with the lords of the North, Riverlands, and the vale, walked up to the steps of the Red Keep. Lord Eddard Stark put forth an offer that Rhaegar couldn't refuse. They would march on King's Landing, dethrone the Mad King, proclaiming Rhaegar to be the king of the seven kingdoms along with his queen, Lyanna Stark. It was a dream come true. He had everything he ever wanted. Peace in the realm with the woman he loved. 

"Well done! Well done, Rhaegar!" His father barked from atop his throne, clapping his boney hands together, cackling as he does it. "You defeated the rebels and brought the traitors to me so justice can be served. Maybe you aren't as useless as I thought."

Rhaegar clenched his sword hand tight. His father was cruel and unkind. A man that shouldn't be a lord, let alone a king. "You're wrong, father. I've come to stop your reign of terror. You won't harm anyone else so long as I'm king." 

Ned stood behind him, grasping the hilt of his sword tight. Beside him, stood Barristan Selmy, his Kingsguard, who kneeled before him in the rushing waters of the trident, proclaiming him the one and only king. Many lords, soldiers, and other folk knelled to him on that bloody battlefield, including the stubborn Stark. 

"TRAITOR!!!!!!" The Mad King screeched, standing up from his seat, shaking his bony finger the prince's direction. "You dare take my CROWN!" He slowly descended the steps of the jagged iron throne, towards the defiant prince. "Oh, you silly little boy! I always knew you were pitiful just like your mother!" Rhaegar stood his ground, grinding his teeth in silent rage as Aerys made it to the foot of the throne looking at his son face to face. "I'll burn you for this boy, and then I'll crown your brother my heir. Guard! Seize the prince and summon my pyromancer!" None of the gold cloaks, Lords, or Kingsguard moved an inch, causing Aerys to frown and look around with a glare. "What are you all standing around for! I gave you an order! Your king has given you an order!!!" 

"You don't see it do you?" Rhaegar asked his father with a small shake of his head in disbelief. "You turned the whole country against you. You almost destroyed this house and this family. But not anymore, you will no longer be king, you'll spend the rest of your life in the black cells far away from mother or anyone else you could harm." 

Ser Barristan, along with Ser Jaime Lannister moved towards the frightened, mad man. They both seized an arm of the former king, making him scream and roar, trying to get free of their firm grasp. 

"No, no, you can't do this to me! I AM YOUR KING!!!!!" He screamed in anger, trying to free himself from the grasp of the Kingsguard.

"Not anymore," Ser Barristan said softly, pulling Areys away from the throne and towards the main entrance.

As they got closer to the large door, Aerys stomped on Jaime's foot, causing him to shriek in pain and let his hold on the Mad King loosen, giving Aerys enough time to headbutt Barristan and take Jaime's sword from his sheath.

The noise of the struggle caused both Lord Stark and Prince Rhaegar to turn and face the frantic figure of the former king. The Mad King was charging towards his son in anger, the sword in his pale wrinkly hand raised in the air. His horrific battle cry was echoing off the walls as his frail feet carried him closer to his target. Eddard reached for his longsword to stop the attack. Before the cold steel could fully release from the leather confinement, Rhaegar already freed his steel disarming, and impaling his father. The sword that won Rhaegar so many battles's now emerged from the Mad King's back. His blood was slowly trickling down the polished steel and onto the black handle.

"I'm sorry, father. You gave me no choice," Rhaegar said in a whisper as the former tyrant coughed up blood that trickled out his mouth and down his cracked chin. 

The reign of the Mad King was at an end.

The next few days passed in a blur, Rhaegar was pronounced King of the Seven Kingdoms, he discussed the future relationship with his former wife, Elia Martell. Which entailed that she would always have an honorary place in the capital with their children, but Lyanna would be the queen, and their son would be king after him. A heavy argument followed. Elia understood the love the prince shared with the She-Wolf but didn't relish the idea of their children becoming less than the children Lyanna would bare him.

Stuck in the capitol, Rhaegar sent Eddard Stark, his fast friend, to retrieve his sister that was waiting in Dorne. With a letter, written by the new king, Ned Stark set out with his best men. After a moon of ruling over the divided kingdom, dark words reached him. 

Dear King Rhaegar  
I bring sad tidings. Queen Lyanna Targaryen is dead. Passed away in the birthing bed, the child was lost along with the mother.   
I shall bring the remains of my dear sister back to our home, Winterfell. She belongs with our father and brother in the north.   
Eddard Stark, Warden of the North.

Rhaegar read the words fifty times, blinded by the tears that welled up in his dark violet eyes. His screams echoed out through the Red Keep, shaking the stones. The King was defeated, not on the battlefield, but by love. Nothing could fill the empty void that Lyanna had occupied, the bright, adventurous northern girl. Her wide smile could light up a thousand candles — something Rhaegar will never see ever again. His sorrow and grief wrecked him for many moons to come. 

He won the war but lost his wife. 

A year later, Rhaegar only got cold answers from the warden in the north about what happened that fateful day. Ser Arthur Dayne, who came back with a heavy heart, only spoke in short responses.

"What did my child look like?" He would ask.

"I don't know your grace, I never saw the babe," He replied with a look of sorrow and guilt.

Forced back into his unnatural life, he remained unmarried, acting as if Elia was still the queen. His mother survived the birth of her third child, a daughter named Daenerys. They moved into the Keep, which pleased the new King very much. Little Daenerys was his source of escape from the hardships of the crown and the grief of the losses he has suffered. Her bright amethyst eyes and gorgeous silver-gold hair was a pleasant sight to see. The king knew that one day, she would grow to be the most beautiful woman in the world. She was going to lead their family to greatness one day. 

For five years Rhaegar ruled, but not as his former self, now he was a hollow shell of a man who has lost the one thing that mattered most. He died in his bed, many believe that a broken heart killed the king, he lost his love, and now he was going to join her in the other world.

Now his son, Aegon VI was crowned king, at the age of six. The real ruler being his mother, Elia Martell and his grandmother Rhaella Targaryen.

While the true heir to the throne lived his days out up in the north, as the Bastard of Winterfell.

 

300 AC 

**The White Wolf**

A cold breeze nipped at Jon's face as he rode down the kingsroad on his black Stallion named Blackfyre. A name his younger siblings chose to be fitting for the horse. His father Lord Eddard Stark believed it to be an unfit name, due to their already troubled relations with the Targaryen's. But Arya pleaded with her father with her big grey eyes, eyes he couldn't refuse. So there he was riding down the Kingsroad, alongside his half-brother Robb Stark, his direwolf Grey Wind, and his own, Ghost. They were accompanied by a host of Stark bannermen, guards from their respected houses along with many Stark guards. A litter containing, Catelyn Stark, three of her children, Sansa, Rickon, and Arya who fidgeted immensely, wanting to ride down to King's Landing rather than to sit in a stuffy box. Bran, a young Stark boy old enough to ride, rode beside the master of arms, Ser Rodrick. Leading the host was his father Eddard Stark, the most honorable man he ever met. The only dishonorable thing he ever did was put Jon into his mother's womb. A humiliation Jon will live with until his dying day, the product of great Eddard Stark's shame. 

"Why are you looking so grim," Robb called out from beside him. His pearly white smile glistened in the Summer sun, the same smile that had won many girl's hearts back in Winterfell. 

"I always look like this," Jon responded, moving his stormy eyes from his brother to the road ahead.

"True, but you should be happy. We're heading to King's Landing for a tourney!" Robb cheered with excitement. "Do you know how much we're going to slay in that tourney!?"

"You know father won't let us enter the melé or the jousting," Jon countered, looking back over at his Half-brother. 

"We could always do it behind his back," Robb answered as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. 

"This is father we're talking about."

"He can't keep eyes on us all the time, not when he is busy trying to please the Targaryen's," Robb pointed out. The oldest Stark ran a hand through his dark red locks, "He would hate landing the Stark's on their bad side once more." 

"He didn't even want to come to the tourney in the first place. He will be keeping an eye on us, so we don't get into trouble, which you're planning on doing."

As Jon finished his sentence, another horse rode up beside Robb's. The rider was none other than Theon Greyjoy, the ward of Ned Stark. "Did somebody say trouble?"

"Theon will agree with me," Robb stated, glancing over at the Kraken. "Do you think we should enter the tourney?"

"Of course!" Theon replied. Jon just shook his head. Whenever there is a bad idea; Theon was always behind it. "When I win, I'm going to crown the most beautiful girl I see, queen of love and beauty, and then she will have no other choice than to lay with me." 

"That's not how it works," Jon pointed out, looking over at the ward. "Besides, we're talking about jousting against such knights as Ser Jaime Lannister."

"The Lousy Lion," Theon muttered as Jon continued to list off knights. 

"-Ser Barristan Selmy-"

"Old."

"-The Mountain." 

"Easy," Theon murmured, smiling his stupid smug grin. "I could take all those guys on at once."

"In your dreams, Greyjoy," Robb laughed. 

"You green boys just wait, after the tourney is over, I will have fucked a princess," Theon said with a lust filled grin. "Just imagine what a dragon can do in-"

"Speare me your wicked thoughts, Greyjoy," Jon responded, looking away from the pair and out into the green fields of the Riverlands. But the image of a silver-haired beauty under him did cause his breeches to tighten, but with a quick shake of the head, Jon forced those dirty thoughts deep within his mind. 

"Let's place a bet," Robb spoke up, looking between the Bastard and the grinning ward. "Fifty Gold dragon's to anyone that can bed a princess," Theon's eyes lit up in excitement, while Jon rolled his. He knew this was a bet he could not win, not only it was near impossible to get near yet alone seduce a royal, but he had a strict code not to lay with anyone unless he was married. 

"Deal!" Theon said gleefully. 

"Jon?" Robb asked in a low voice, looking over at the bastard of Winterfell. "Come on. It's just a small bet."

Jon groaned, if he didn't accept, he knew he was going to be pestered by both Theon and Robb for the rest of the trip. "Ugh, fine."

"Get ready to be disappointed," Theon said with another large smug smirk. 

Jon looked back at the calming countryside. He just wanted the trip to be over so he can continue his brooding at Winterfell, in peace. 

It took many more day's to reach the gate of King's Landing, the whole trip down, Theon wouldn't shut up about how he was going to make one of the princesses fall in love with him.

"I wonder who would be better? The Dornish blooded, Rhaenys," Theon said with a broad grin as they sat at a table that occupied the corner of the small Inn they were staying at. "Or the sexy Valyrian, Daenerys. That silver hair and violet eyes."

Robb chuckled at Theon's filthy action's he was performing. The Kraken was miming rubbing his hand's down the princess's body, causing Jon to groan and roll his eyes once more.  

His annoying talks almost drove Jon insane. He was finally free from his constant talking when they entered the city that was packed full of people, most of them were small folk, then there were the few men plated in armor, with extravagant decorations attached making Robb and Theon laugh. They made fun of the theatrical way the so-called knights held themselves. Ned had to shout at them to be quiet a few times, resulting in a few snickers from the pompous knights causing both Robb and Theon to grow red in the face. 

After a few more insults, they made it to the Red Keep, everyone dismounted and gazed up at the large castle made of bright red brick. Jon admired the tall towers that reached up into the blue sky. History seemed to ooze out of every crack and chip in the slabs.

"This place is amazing," Sansa said in awe as she exited the litter along with her younger siblings and her mother.

"It could smell better though," Robb said, plugging his nose. The smell of shit and piss did distract from the beauty of it all.

"You get used to it," a voice called out to them. All eyes turned to a man dressed in white and gold armor, with a bright white cape attached to his shoulder and flowed down his back. He looked to be an older man with short grey hair and sad blue eyes.

"Ser Barristan," Ned said with a smile, the two men walked towards one another and embraced.

_Ser Barristan Selmy!_  Jon looked at the older man with shock and awe. He grew up on stories about Barristan the Bold; he was an idol of Jon's. A man to look up to, and he was standing before him. 

Robb elbowed Jon in the ribs and nodded towards the legendary knight. "That's _the_ Barristen Selmy, the legend," Robb said with excitement. Jon gazed at his half-brother and noticed he was hopping up and down like a young maiden. Robb was just as much as a fan for the knight as he was.

"It's glad to see you've made it here in one piece," Barristen committed after the two men broke their embrace.

"The roads were kind."

"I'm glad you accepted her grace's invitation."

"Well, I didn't want to upset the crown," Ned commented, and the air around them seemed to have grown thicker (The heavy fog of shit didn't help).

"Right, well, we shouldn't keep his grace waiting. Your family all have rooms within the keep, suited to your needs," Selmy mentioned turning to the Stark family. "Now if you follow me."

And with that Ser Barristen was off towards the large entrance, Ned Stark nodded to his family before taking the lead. Catelyn followed, soon followed closely by Sansa, Bran, Rickon, Arya, and Robb. All of whom told their respective Direwolves to sit and stay. Jon moved to hang back with the others and help unpack, but a hand grabbed his cloak and dragged him along, "No, you don't." Robb was the source of the pulling, making Jon smile lightly. No matter how many people called him a bastard, Robb always regarded him as a brother. "You aren't going to miss this." 

As Jon moved to follow his half brother, his white direwolf wined and trotted up beside him. "Easy boy, stay with your brothers and sisters. I won't be long, I promise." Ghost just wined once more before turning around to join the other wolves. 

"NOT YOU GREYJOY!" The loud booming voice of Ser Rodrick called out, stopping Theon in his tracks.

The protests of Theon soon faded when they walked into the vast hallways of the Red Keep. Gold cloaks lined the walls, standing at attention, guarding the Keep against any foes. Servants ran through the halls with a rushed pace, carrying an array of objects, some platters of food or wine, others rags and bowls. Jon's stormy grey eyes looked upon the walls they passed through, images of Dragon's littered tapestries that hung proudly across the red bricks. Depictions of battles the Targaryen's accomplished, shown on fully display.

"We're truly in the dragon's den now," Robb whispered beside him. Jon could only nod in reply as his gaze drifted from dragon to dragon. Something within in him seemed to call out to the images, but Jon couldn't quite place it.  

"Lord Stark, I was sorry to hear that you turn down the position of Hand," Barristan's voice called out in front of them, drawing Jon's attention to the old knight and the honorable Lord.

_Hand?_

"My place is in the North, with my family and people," Ned replied, keeping his gaze forward. "I suggested Lord Arryn, to her grace, but the young king seemed to think him unfit."

"His grace believes that Lord Arryn would fall ill on arrival, so he sort out a much more. . . capable Hand," Selmy replied, struggling to find the right words.

"Who did he find?" 

"No one at the moment, I do not attend the small council meeting much, my Lord," Ser Barristan replied weakly before both men fell into an awkward silence. Both Robb and Jon shared a look; the position of Hand was a great appointment. One would say it was the actual power to the Seven Kingdoms. Why anyone would turn it down was beyond them. 

The group soon came to a more massive oak door that loomed over them. Ser Barristen looked back at the Stark's with a smile before walking forward and nodding at the two doormen who gladly started to open the large door. The loud sound of chatting lords and Lady's met Jon's ears. When the door full creaked open, the first thing that caught Jon's eye was the large Throne that sat at the back of the great hall. The sizeable jagged throne made of a thousand melted swords. The throne was currently empty, a sense of need washed over him, he felt like climbing those steps and sitting on the throne that ruled the Seven Kingdoms for three-hundred years. He felt like a magnet, being pulled towards the Iron Throne, like a moth to a flame. 

"Hey, Jon. Look over there," Robb's voice pulled Jon out his dream state and back into reality. Robb's finger pointed across the large room towards a group of people huddled together, deep in conversation. One was a boy a few years older than them, his silver hair short but curly, a crown of jagged dragon scales sat atop his head, nestled in his silver locks. King Aegon the sixth, a boy rumored to be as cruel as his grandfather. Next to him stood a woman with deep olive skin, dark curly hair, and big brown eyes. Queen Elia Martell, the wife of the late King Rhaegar. They were talking to a pair of gentlemen, one was round and plump with a shaved head, the other skinny and lean, with a grey goatee and oiled dark hair. "That's the king. Do you think he's as much of a prick as they claim?"

"You shouldn't say that here, not when people could be listening," Jon replied in a harsh whisper.

"I'm just saying," Robb said, throwing his hands up in defense. 

"You two," Ned's voice called out to them, as he walked over. "I got some business to attend to, try not to get into any trouble."

"Yes, father," Robb replied quickly.

"You have my word, Lord Stark," Jon answered, causing Eddard's face to soften slightly before Harding up. He then turned and left the two boys to their own devices. Jon then had a quick take of the room; It was packed with Lord's and Ladies from all across the Seven Kingdoms. The two Stark's walked through the groups of Lord's attempting to find something of interest. Jon spotted all sorts of noblemen packed together, all from different parts of the seven kingdoms. Some with dark olive skin of the dornish, or the bright colors of the reach. 

"So, I walked into a brothel with a honeycomb and a jackass-" The voice was intrupted as Jon stumbled into the small figure of the dwarf.

Jon looked down at the man he accidentally stumbled into. "I'm sorry, my lord," Jon quickly muttered, trying to cover up his mistake. His eyes met a pair of mismatched eyes of green and black, and his hair was a dark shade of blond. Jon knew from first sight that he bumped into Tyrion Lannister.

"No need to fear, boy. I'm small enough that people tend to step over me," he quickly replied, looking over his features.

"Jon, come on," Robb said, pulling at the sleeve of his tunic.

"Now hold on," Tyrion said, holding up one of his stubby hands. "You're Robb Stark, Lord Stark son. Then that'll mean you're-" His dark eye shimmered with realization. "You're the bastard of Winterfell." 

Jon bit his tongue, a frown danced across his features as he looked down at the dwarf. He knew what he was, but it was always hard to hear it from the mouths of others.

"He's my brother," Robb spoke up in his defense, glaring down at the dwarf. "Not like you should know, Imp."

"Watch your tongue, boy," A gruffer voice scolded Robb. Looking up, they spotted the same gold armor and white cape that Ser Barristan had worn, but this time shoulder-length blond hair fell on the shoulder plates. Piecing green eyes stared at Robb with rage hidden slightly behind the spark of green.

"You're Jaime Lannister," Jon muttered. 

Green eyes shifted to his grey orbs, "I'm his brother. So you better watch your mouths, little wolves."

Robb growled and clenched his fists tight in anger and rage. "I'm not so little as you think."

"Let's all just calm down," Tyrion said, holding his arms up. 

"As fool hearted as every other Stark," Jaime said with a sly grin, causing Robb to launch forward. Jon quickly took action and held his Half-brother back away from the laughing lion.

"You little-" Robb growled through clenched teeth.

"He's not worth it," Jon muttered, pulling his brother away from the still cackling lion. 

"He's such a bastard!" Robb yelled out in frustration as they finally fled the lions. "No offense," Robb softly muttered after they were feet away from the Lannister's.

"None taken," Jon softly replied, looking down at his shuffling feet. As they moved through the throne room, Robb went on about how Lannister's are the worst things ever to grace Westeros. Jon's gaze drifted around the place that was illuminated by the sun which danced through the stain glass windows that hung above. His eyes drifted from Lord to lady, talking amongst themselves with little care in the world. His grey gaze met a pair of bright violet pools. His heart seemed to have stopped. He was looking upon the most beautiful sight he has ever seen. The girl was standing across the room, her hair flowing around her in a few simple braids, the gorgeous silver-gold locks cascaded around her like an angel. Her face pale and slim, perfect in every way. Jon's stormy eyes were locked with her pure bright violet eyes, that was drawing him in like a siren singing to sailors. Her slim body dressed in a figure-hugging silver dress, it hugged her form in all the best ways. Jon felt as if his feet floated off the ground; he was captivated by the sheer essence of this attractive woman.

"JON!" Robb yelled in his ear, waving a hand in front of his eyes, cutting his gaze with the mystery woman. "Hey, what the hell are you doing? you just sorta stopped moving," Robb mentioned looking his half brother over.

"What? No, I was just-" Jon looked back to where the woman stood to find her back now turned to him, talking to two other people that had the same silver-gold hair as she did. An older looking woman and a more skinny man beside her. 

Robb followed his gaze over to the three people, "Ah, the Targaryen's. Can't believe we still have to bow to those people, after what they did to our grandfather and uncle." 

Feeling the need to defend them, Jon spoke up. "That was the Mad King, not all Targaryen's are evil."

"Tell that to the King," Robb said with a huff, looking over to the large throne. Climbing the steel steps was the man himself, the young king Aegon. His short silver hair curled around his dragon scale crown. Jon felt a chill run up his spine as the king turned around halfway up the cold steel steps of the throne. His deep dark, violet eyes seemed haunting almost, cruel and bitter as their flicked to one lord to another. His white skin seemed neither pale nor dark like his mothers, a mix of both Rhaegar and Elia. As he raised his arms into the air, the crowd in the room hushed their conversations and turned to their king. The power seemed to please the king, his lips tightened, and his white teeth were shown on full display. 

"My Lords and Ladies, it's a pleasure to see all your faces," He spoke in a cocky, high pitched voice. _Very unlike a king_ , Jon thought to himself. _But what would I know about how a king should sound like?_ "You have all traveled far and wide to be here, and of that, I am thankful. We're here to celebrate my aunt's name day, with the grandest tourney the kingdoms have ever seen!" The room filled with clapping from the many lords and ladies, causing the smug smile on the King to widen. 

"Look at that smug prick," Robb whispered to Jon beside him.

"Tonight a large banquet will be held in this very hall, and I invite you all to join us. My sweet aunt Daenerys will be taking the seat of honor beside me."

"Poor girl," Robb breathed out, looking around for the girl in question. "I bet she's hating the idea of sitting next to that bag of-" 

Jon elbowed him in the ribs to shut his half-brother up. But he overdid the power of his elbow, causing the heir to Winterfell wine in pain from the sudden blow to his side. All the heads in the hall turned to the two half-brothers. The eyes of all the lords and the piercing dark violet orbs of the king turned Jon's face as red as a tomato. The heat that was crawling up Jon's neck felt like a thousand dragons were bathing him in an internal fire. Jon only wished that were true to save himself from the embarrassment of the situation he was put in. The most notable gaze was from the king himself; his dark, violet eyes seemed to shine with anger as they peered down at him. 

"Is something the matter, Northerner?" the king asked with venom in his tone.

"Ummm," Jon was at a loss of words as Robb sat wide-eyed beside him. "I just-ugh."

"Your grace!" The savor in the form of his father appeared through the thick crowd of Lords behind them. His face pale as a sheet, his grey eyes darting from Jon to the king that stood on the steps of the Iron Throne. "Please ignore my sons. They were just messing around."

"Well, they should learn some respect in court. But I'm guessing that's too much to ask from a wolf," The glare of the king turned into a sick smug grin. The sight of the white teeth made Jon's blood boil. How dare he think so lowly of the Stark's!

The great hall was filled with laughter, causing the redding of Jon's cheeks to increase. "Amusing, your grace," Ned replied with a fake laugh. His hands placed firmly on both Jon's and Robb's shoulders. "I'll make sure they do their best at learning their manners." 

"Let's hope they can eat without using their hands," the King commented, resulting in more laughter. Jon felt his nails dig into his palm, drawing specks of blood that dripped softly on the floor below. With a glance, he found Robb doing the same. Anger was building up within the young wolf, ready to launch at any moment. The young Northman went to speak, but Ned tugged on his tunic, stopping his son from digging the hole deeper. 

"Not another word," Ned hissed lightly. Both boys looked down at the ground, ashamed at their actions. The anger was still bellowing deep within, but the fear of their father hung far above the hatred to the king. As the king finished his little speech, Jon looked around at the crowd of noblemen. How many of these people laughed at his family? If he didn't hit Robb in the ribs none of this would've happened. Jon felt the guilt swell in the pit of his stomach. 

As his father was leading both his sons away, Jon's stormy eyes met the soft violet pools that had entranced him before. The princess Daenerys, Jon was sure it was her. The beauty was unmatched. A small relax smile appeared on her face as he looked directly at her, causing a bubbling warm feeling to replace the guilt and anger that resided within. A large kind smile formed on the bastard's face, making the girl giggle. 

The line of sight was interrupted when Ned pulled both boys to a small secluded section in the hall. His father's eyes expressed an array of emotion; the most prominent was that of disappointment. The warm feeling that he enjoyed was squashed with a heavy sensation of guilt. 

"What did I say?" Ned asked in a harsh whisper.

"Not to cause any trouble," Both boys parroted his earlier words to them. 

"And what did you do?"

"We caused trouble." Jon let out a long sad sigh, the worst feeling he has ever known was the sense of disappointment his father expressed with his sad grey eyes. 

"This is my fault, father," Jon said with a sad pleading voice.

"No, I was the one speaking about how much a prick the king is. You were only trying to stop me before our heads ended up on the chopping block," Robb responded.

Their father looked at both boys with eyes full of pride with a hint of fear and sadness. "I'm not going to lie to you two. We've come to a dangerous place. People here wouldn't care if either of you lost your head. We need to look out for one another, take good care on where you step. Lies come easily to the people who live here, so trust no one but our family. Is that understood?" Both boys nodded at their father. "Good, now don't draw unnecessary attention to yourselves."

Ned Stark patted both of his son's on the shoulder before leaving to rejoin the lords and ladies of the land.

"Do you really think this place is as dangerous as he says it is?" Robb asked his half brother beside him.

"I don't know. But I'd rather not find out," Jon replied, looking out towards the sea of noblemen. His grey eyes flicked from face to face until they rested upon the great Iron Throne. 

 

**The Dragon's Daughter**

The setting sun reflected off the bright shimmering pools of violet. Daenerys Targaryen was standing in front of a window in her bedchamber, watching as the sky turned to deep orange. The light reflecting off the bustling city bellow, giving the city more life then it already has. The excitement and traffic of the upcoming tournament have boosted the noise of the city, making it more active than ever. All this for my name day? Daenerys couldn't help but feel overwhelmed with the number of people flocking to the capitol for her six-and-ten name day. She has always been treated with high regard due to her being a princess and all, but the upcoming tournament was going to be something else entirely. Her mother told her why the event would be significant, but it did not make Dany feel any better. In fact, it made it worse, then it already is. 

"At the start of the tourney, King Aegon will announce his betrothed," Rhaella cooed into her ear one night as she lightly brushed her daughter's silver curls.

"Betrothed?" Dany asked with a curious voice, staring back at her mother through the looking-glass in front of her. Her mother's violet eyes looked into her own through the glass. Everyone told her how she looked just like her mother did at her age. "Who is to marry, Aegon?"

"You, darling." Dany's world came crashing down; she always dreamed of marrying a fancy knight who would whisk her away on his black stallion. But to learn that she would spend the rest of her days with her nephew who she loathed, it would make any girl cry. But she was a dragon, and dragon's don't cry. But she couldn't help the waterworks when she lay in bed that night, curled up in her silk sheets. Aegon was cruel and unkind, believing he was better than everyone. Her brother was one of the only people to say otherwise, proclaiming he should be the rightful king. That sent Aegon into a mad frenzy, attacking the prince. Aegon wasn't like the weak, skinny prince; he had some sense of how to fight — resulting in Viserys appearing with a black eye and few new bruises. Whenever his nephew beat Viserys, he took his anger out on her. She still carried a few small scars across her belly and one on the inner side of her left breast.

"Daenerys, sweetling," her mother cooed as she opened the door to her room, gliding inside with several handmaids behind her. "You need to get ready for the feast. The king wants you looking your best for tonight. You'll be sitting by his side after all. As his soon to be queen," Rhaella gently took her daughter's hand and guided her over to a copper bathtub filled with steaming water. Several of the handmaidens were busy at work, either laying out the attire of the night or filling and preparing the tub that lay in front of her. 

"I don't want to be his queen," Daenerys spoke up. Her voice teeming with weakness; her fears of an unloving husband were coming true. She prayed to the gods that they would save her from the unlawful mad man that sat upon the throne. 

"Now dear, it won't be as bad as you think," Daenery's doubted that statement. "You'll be the queen of the seven kingdoms. Your sons and daughters will be princes and princesses." She wanted all that her mother was telling her, but with a different man then Aegon. _Why can't a woman be a queen without the king?_ Daenerys thought to herself as two handmaids started to strip her out of the silk silver dress she wore for the gathering of the lords. That meeting was packed full of tiresome talking, many lords came up and thanking them for the invite and congratulating her about her six-and-ten name day. But not all the gathering was as dull as the lackluster Lords and Ladies. The ones that did pique her interest was the hard, gruff Starks of the north. One, in particular, his long curly raven locks, and hard piercing grey eyes still affected her even now, far from the Northman in question. "Now, go wash and dress. I'll come to get you soon," With that, her mother left her in her room. 

Now alone with her maids, Daenerys climbed up the short wooden steps and dropped one of her smooth legs into the boiling water. "No, princess, it's too hot!" One of her handmaids shouted, looking at the scene in horror. Daenerys didn't feel the burn. She just felt the relaxing sensation of the water brush her pale skin.

"Relax, Rose. Her Majesty always likes the water steaming hot," Her close handmaid and friend Missandei said calming the panicking new maid. Missandei came to King's Landing a few years back; the two girls quickly hit it off due to the close age gap.

"It soothes me," Daenerys confessed as she lowered her body into the water, letting the steam wash away her troubles. But not even Dragonfire could burn away the horror of the betrothal. As she relaxed her muscles, her handmaids washed her legs and body, while Missandei washed her long silver hair.

"The announcement still troubles you, my princess?" Her friend asked with concern. 

"It'll trouble me for the rest of my life." Missandei only looked down into her violet pools with sorrow. "But that is my duty."

"That doesn't mean you can't have a little fun. I saw the way you looked at that boy at the gathering," Missandei responded with a raised eyebrow. Dany felt heat rush to her cheeks, thinking about the handsome Stark she spotted in the crowd. The way his grey eyes smoldered as they made eye contact, how his lips turned up in a broad smile, the perfect imagery of northern beauty.

"Yes, well I'm sure everyone spotted him," Daenerys remarked, thinking back on how the king called him out. 

"He is very pretty." _He is_ , Daenerys thought biting her bottom lip. Thinking about the boy riding on a black stallion, dressed in shining steel armor, whisking her away from her horrible nephew, made her feel tingly and warm. What she wouldn't give to run away with him. "Too bad he's. . . what do you call them here?" Missandei asked, confused. It was rare to see the small girl not know a word. She was intelligent in language, one of the best. 

"A bastard," One of the handmaids who was cleaning her feet squeaked up.

"Yes, a bastard. You Westerosi are very uptight about the whole thing," Missandei said, combing her slim fingers through Dany's hair. The realization about the boy came from the form of her brother, Viserys. 'Look at that pitiful bastard pup of the usurper dog.' Her brother's clear distaste of the Starks evident in his voice. 

"His brother, Robb Stark. he's a handsome one as well," Rose the handmaid stated soaking a sponge before dabbing it across the princesses chest. The heir to Winterfell was indeed handsome, but nothing compared to his baseborn brother. "If it isn't so bold of me to say My lady, but he would be a smart match for you."

"That is far too bold," Daenerys growled as she stared at the red-haired handmaid with violet daggers. Rose's cheeks turned as red as her hair before looking back down at her work. She couldn't think of any 'smart matches' She was already going to be married, something that didn't excite her as it should've.

"I believe you're as clean as you're going to get, your grace," Missandei broke the tense silence that had washed over the ladies. "Best get ready before your mother comes." Her friend helped her from the copper tub and dried her off. As the water dripped from her goosebumped skin, she couldn't help but trace the small pale scar the marked the inside of her left breast. The images of her vicious brother filled her mind, his mouth foaming with anger as he shouted insult after insult. 'Dragon slut' was his most recent insult for her. His violence only increased at the news of her betrothal with the king. Believing himself to be the 'true' king, Viserys claimed that he owned her. The images sent another wave of shivers through her body. "Your mother chose the lovely black dress with the red outline trim. She believed it to be the most beautiful and fitting dress you could wear for the feast."

Dany looked down at the long black dress and admired the fabric. Her soft pale fingers glided down the blood red trim that lined the dress, really making the whole outfit pop. "It's lovely," She commented as her handmaids quickly went to work. They helped her dress, lacing up the complicated knots in the spine of the gown, pulling it tighter to her petite form. She felt the air in her lungs leave as the final string was pulled tight. The dress hugged her frame, showing off her curves, her hips very prominent in the black and red.

"Wow, you look like a true queen," Missandei said with wide gold eyes. _If only I was Queen on my own terms,_ Daenerys thought glumly as her handmaids worked on her hair, tieing it up in an infinite amount of complicated braids. As they did the finishing touches, her mother walked into the room wearing her own silk dress.

"Are you ready, sweetling?" 

_No._ "Yes," Daenerys got off the chair and faced her mother who looked at her up and down before a wide sad smile appeared on her face.

"You look lovely, dear," Rhaella took her daughter's hands in her own and rubbed her knuckles with affection. "You're going to turn all the heads." _There is only one head I want to turn — the handsome raven-haired northerner named Snow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments and kudos will be appreciated!


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